Found

Twenty Three

(Oops? *hides*)
Warning: Death
"Scott? Scott! It's Mitch!" A strained, tear choked voice brought me back to the land of the awake. I was still in the uncomfortable chair, still in the hospital, but with Kirstie standing over me, small hand on my shoulder.

"What about him? Did he make-" I cut myself off as I spotted everyone's faces. Crestfallen. Even Avi and Kevin, who I had never heard of crying, were hugging, letting tears fall and soak the other's shirt as they held right to each other.

"No." I whispered, shocked. He can't be dead. It's not possible. He has such a bright future. No. "The doctors should have done something!" I slammed my fist on the arm of the chair, my outburst making a few people jump.

"They tried. But the pills had already gotten to his bloodstream. That, mixed with how little blood he had left, and just how malnourished he was, and he didn't stand a chance. They tried. They tried their hardest to save him, but he was too weak to come out of surgery." Kirstie said, voice emotionless, as though she were simply relaying information. "We were simply too late."

'We were simply too late.' Those words echoed in my mind as I stared at everyone who was gathered in the hallway. They echoed as we all said our goodbyes and left the hospital.

December 12, 2012. They day Mitch Grassi died.

I drove home that night, radio off, nothing on my mind but guilt.

I kept thinking back to what he said, "I wouldn't be in this mess of it weren't for you!" and it was true. I got him into this. I gave him over to Alex. I let him be abused for years. I caused this. This was all my fault.

I unlocked my door and headed straight to my bed. I flopped down on my face and finally allowed myself to cry.

Over the next week, I was barely active in society. In fact, the first time I left my house after he died was to go to his funeral.

I pulled up to the cemetery, parking beside everyone else. Climbing out, I headed straight to where everyone was gathered. There were not many people here. There were only about two people there I didn't recognize.

Mike was first to speak about his son. "He was always talking about how he was going to become famous one day, how people would come from all around to see him." He paused, wiping his eyes with the tissue. "I don't think this is what he meant when he said he wanted to draw a crowd." I looked down at my lap. I remembered the conversation we had about that. He told me his dreams and wishes. It made this even worse that he, who had so much left to live for, it seemed, was gone. Quietly, still wiping tears away, he went to sit down, replaced by Kirstie.

"Why? That's what I keep asking. I tried so hard. Was there anything I could have said it done? Was there anything any of us could have done? Life, he used to say, was a performance. It was place for you to show of your stuff. I guess, for him, leaving in the middle of his song was the way to go. I'm really going to miss his bright smile and willingness to not let others feel as low as he did." I couldn't help but look up at that. This was a side to my Mitchie I had never gotten to see, a Mitch who was outgoing and loved to smile at others. I missed that chance. He lost that part of himself because of me.

She was followed by Nel, who was not as held together and everyone else there was. She also spoke to Mitch, instead of about him.

"This may make me a horrible mother, both I will always keep you in my mind as that spunky Seventeen year old boy who, no matter what, played his hardest. I remember when you were about thirteen, you and Kirstie had made it onto a Co-Ed softball team. You were never to enthusiastic about it, but you pretended to be for Kirstie, who loved it. And even though you didn't like it, you still tried your hardest at every game. One of my favorite memories was seeing you up on stage, shining like a star as you sang and danced your heart out. I pray that, wherever you and up, you can still do that." I let a smile, albeit a sad one, creep up on my face at the thought of Mitch, hating sports, And playing just because it made his best friend happy. So many side of him that I never knew, and would never get a chance to know.

I sat there, the rest of the funeral, listening as person after person told stories of Mitch. Avi reminisced about their time in choir together. "God, his voice was angelic. I, still, to this day, have never heard anything as beautiful and pure. Until he got a dirty idea in his mind. The profanities and innuendos he could come up with still amaze me to this day."

Kevin's main story was how modest he always was. "When someone would compliment him, his cheeks would redden and he would duck helix head, embarrassed that someone would notice him. That's how he always was."

As the congregation began to disperse, it began to rain. I looked up and let the water fall in my face. I always used to say that rain was the sky mourning someone who had died.

Dropping my head, I walked over to the closed wooden box and ran my hand over it, humming the song I had sang to him so many times. It was a rendition of the lullaby my mother used to sing me when in was a child. It was the only thing from my childhood I dared remember.

Finishing, I looked to the side, where the rain was landing on his memorial picture. There, between the dates was a single, small dash. His whole life, all of his memories, tragedies, thoughts, were all contained in that little dash.

Mitchell Coby Michael Grassi
Beloved son and friend, who's song ended too soon.
July 24, 1992-December 12, 2012

"I'm sorry Mitch. I didn't keep my promise. I didn't save you." I whispered as I walked away.

~°~
I really need to stop writing the depressing chapters because I keep making myself cry! And Mama does not need that.

Did y'all see that one coming?

And, if I say, no more updates until I get back from camp, I am assuming you will all chase me down with weapons and kill me for it?

Oh, and stay sexy
-Scomiche❤💛💚💙💜